Father Is The Purple In The Sky
by NCISBALTOFAN
Summary: (ONESHOT) In which Dean is sick, the brothers are between hunts, and Castiel decides to teach Dean about his Father.


ONESHOT

Dean Winchester lay on the more comfortable than it probably would've been any other time couch on his side. His eyes were closed, but he was in full consciousness otherwise. He had one armed draped over his stomach and the other behind his head, almost protecting it. He feared if he stood up the walls would cave in on him, or he'd fall down and pass out. Dean and Sam were in between hunts right now and were staying at a house in the country. Somewhere remote, a place that had belonged to Bobby Singer's friend Rufus when both of them were still alive, Dean had been given the key by Bobby years ago when the brothers had stayed there for a local hunt and had never managed to ever give it back to Bobby. Good thing.

Dean had thrown up in the car hours ago.

He didn't know what had brought on the sudden sickness, probably the heat mixed with the Impala's lack of air conditioning at the moment. Dean had been meaning to give his baby a full tune up, but hadn't found the time yet. Whatever it was, Dean's stomach hadn't been kind to him and he'd felt it turning and lurching and turning and lurching. Sam had had to pull over as Dean stood, hunched over, hand on his car's hood, puking into the grass and swaying a bit. He'd subsequently passed out, sleeping in the car, after the whole ordeal. Before he knew it he heard the Impala's tires running over gravel and the old country house in view. Dean had managed to make it to the couch before the room spun too much and that's where he'd remained for three hours.

Dean groaned a little and lifted his arm out from behind his head. He lifted his head up slowly and looked around. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Dean was about to sit up and go look for him when he heard a familiar whoosh of wings and he saw Castiel standing before him.

"Your brother went for a walk," Castiel explained to Dean, looming over him, hands by his sides and his tie slightly escue once again. "He needed to clear his head. He should be back within the hour."

"Thanks Cas," Dean finally said after a minute or two, he sucked in a deep breath and willed himself to sit up. "I suppose he told you what happened?"

"About you projectile vomiting the contents of your gastro-intestines," Castiel said, cocking his eyebrow a bit. "Yes. He did."

"Great," Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think it was the heat."

"A very plausible conclusion." Castiel replied.

"Ok," Dean sighed. "Cool it Oxford."

"That is not my name Dean?" Castiel seemed confused, but stopped himself from saying anything else. Clearly Dean was not in the current mental state to explain what he meant. Instead the hunter leaned back into the outdoor couch cushions and settled in. He closed his eyes again, but clearly was not going to sleep. He'd done enough of that for three hours. Castiel stepped closer to him; Dean felt his presence like an overwhelming shadow. The next thing the hunter felt was Castiel's palm, resting against his forehead, like a motherly embrace. Dean opened one eye.

"You do not appear to running a fever Dean," Castiel stated. "I'd say it was as you said, the heat is to blame."

Dean sighed and opened both eyes as Castiel removed his hand.

"Human bodies were only made to handle so much Dean," Castiel explained. "Father only intended for you all to be able to do so much."

"Oh really now," Dean replied. "And when was the last time you talked to your daddy Cas? How do you know his true intentions for mankind? How do you even know he's even up there?"

"Dean," Castiel sighed, he knew this was a tough subject for Dean to comprehend, a man who'd had everything against him from day one wasn't expected to believe in miracles, much less God. Castiel looked over at Dean, the man who deserved so much to believe in something for once, and suddenly felt the urge to show him. "Stand up and come with me."

"What," Dean asked, slowly standing and keeping his eyes on the angel. "Why?"

"Trust me Dean," Castiel said in his cryptic nature. "You won't regret this."

"Alright," Dean knew better than to argue. "But no flying, I don't think my stomach can handle it."

"No flying," Castiel agreed. "We're merely taking a walk."

"A walk," Dean chuckled. "An Angel of the Lord wants to take a walk with me?"

"Why not," Castiel asked. "We are friends are we not Dean? Isn't this the sort of thing friends do?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Yeah I guess it is. Well, c'mon then Cas let's go."

With that, Castiel set out with Dean by his side through the door leading to the screened in porch Dean had been lying down on the outdoor couch. Castiel watched Dean carefully as the hunter descended the wooden steps leading from the deck down to the grass and the yard carefully and slowly. Castiel took hold of the hunter's arm for a split second before descending the last step himself and Dean didn't protest. Castiel let go and walked ahead of Dean, looking back at him to make sure he was still upright before leading him towards the open field near the wheat, flowing in the wind.

"You wanted to know how I know my Father is up there," Castiel pointed to the sky, still keeping his eyes on Dean, the breeze blowing his hair a bit to the left. "As you put it. The reason I know is that Father is in everything."

"This isn't going to be one of those Sunday school speeches is it?" Dean rolled his eyes quickly and earned a look from Castiel. Dean shifted uncomfortably; he knew Castiel had seen that.

"No Dean I promise you," Castiel replied. "It's not."

Dean let out a small sigh and stood, waiting for Castiel to explain what he wanted to.

"My Father," Castiel said. "He lives in you, in your people, in your being; he lives in me as well. He made us both. But contrary to popular opinion he did not make us who we are."

Castiel led Dean further; they walked past the wheat as it blew in the breeze.

"Father is the wheat," Castiel explained. "He's the wind that blows through these fields of gold as well. He is the sky and the clouds and the grass we're stepping on."

Dean suddenly felt something stirring in the pit of his stomach. As if he was stepping on God. It felt strange now to even take a step forward. Every step the hunter took was weighted now and he actually thought about it.

"My Father is the water," Castiel explained as they came upon a puddle and Dean looked down into it, seeing his own reflection then moving on. "He is the sun and the seasons. The storms."

"The storms too," Dean asked. "But why would he force storms on people Cas? Sometimes they kill people?"

"He doesn't control the storms Dean he doesn't force them," Castiel said. "They just are. Father may have created them, but he doesn't control them. Mother Earth does that."

Dean still seemed confused.

"My Father created the first of everything," Castiel explained in more detail. "He left it up to his creations to fend for themselves after that. He is a part of everything still, because he created it. Sort of like a watermark, like an artist signing their work. When it comes down to it though, everything must fend for itself."

"Sorta defeats the purpose of church then Cas," Dean replied, chuckling a bit. "You just shot down almost everything those people believe in."

"Organized religion and God," Castiel turned to Dean. "Are two very different things Dean."

That struck Dean differently than anything had ever before. He didn't know what to say. This was all just a bit overwhelming. The sun was also beginning to set and Dean was still worn out from earlier.

"You're tired," Castiel observed. "I can tell. We don't have to walk much further Dean?"

"I," Dean wanted to protest, he wanted to learn more, but he knew it would be bad if he did. "I guess that would be best Cas."

Castiel simply nodded and together, he and Dean walked back to the comfort of the porch. Castiel held the door open for the hunter and Dean settled back onto the couch. He lay down once again in the same position he'd been in the first time. Sam still hadn't returned. The sun was beginning to set, giving the sky a purple-blue hue that, in Dean's opinion, was beautiful beyond belief. He'd never stopped to tell Sam that, or anyone for that matter. He could feel his eyelids drooping.

"Go to sleep Dean," Castiel's voice was smooth, almost as beautiful as the sky. Not that Dean would ever say that out loud. "I'll be here."

Dean obliged without argument. He was so tired. Throwing up took a lot out of a person, even hours later. Castiel waited until Dean was asleep before sitting next to the man. Castiel fit perfectly in the area where Dean's body curved, the front of his stomach, which rose and fell gently as his friend slumbered.

"I know you can't hear me," Castiel reached out, running a hand through Dean's hair. The man never stirred. "But Father is also the purple in the sky. I thought you'd like to hear that."

Castiel didn't leave his friend's side until Sam came home.

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**A/N: I hope no one was offended by this. I am agnostic, I was never raised on religion or had it introduced in my household growing up. I am willing to learn though. This is just MY interpretation of God. **


End file.
